


Out on the Balcony

by indifferentyoongi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 3RACHA, As always this is all fluff please enjoy, Backup Dancer au, Bickering, Everyone is here but rap line and dance line are the main cast, M/M, No Angst, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indifferentyoongi/pseuds/indifferentyoongi
Summary: “Should we do this one-on-one? Focus on the opening for tonight? Jisung needs the least amount of work. Felix you help him. Hyunjin, you go with Chan. I’ll take Changbin.”“Are you saying I need the most amount of work?” Changbin asked as Minho approached him. Irritation clouded his common sense which yelled 'these guys are helping you' and 'you don’t even know him.'“Yes,” Minho replied plainly, and Changbin’s common sense hid behind his ego."You’re aware there’s no way I’m going to look as good as you do by this time next week?”“Are you calling me good looking?” Minho asked. He smirked, but when Changbin did nothing but glare at him, he blinked hard and seemed to reset his focus. “You’re going to improve. Trust me. I’ll even make sure you’re the most improved. Hyung will compliment you the most.”Changbin grumbled a quick “we'll see” before getting into his starting position.____Or, 3racha gets backup dancers for their upcoming tour, and Seo Changbin is paired with one enigmatic Lee Minho.





	Out on the Balcony

**Author's Note:**

> Do you, like me, often think about how mnet stray kids left the pairing of Minho and Changbin with regret--Minho regretting that he couldn't be a hyung to Changbin and Felix during their mission, Changbin regretting not helping Minho enough to keep him on the show?
> 
> Well, I present to you, a story where I've imagined minbin's redemption, both for themselves and for each other. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“We’re going to up production for this tour,” Chan explained after a budgeting meeting with 3racha’s staff and managers. “VCRs in between acts, wardrobe changes, and they’re bringing in some backup dancers for a few songs.”

“Do we need all of that?” Changbin asked. He hoped his group would have a larger budget after the success of the last album, but he was expecting better microphones, bigger venues, a longer setlist. These changes would take time away from their music to execute. “Our fans like us for us. Why the bells and whistles?”

Chan looked like he had an answer prepared before Changbin even finished speaking. “Fans can listen to the songs at home, they can watch us perform live in youtube videos. We have the money now to give them the experience they’re actually paying for, something that they’ll always remember as a moment only between us.”

Jisung, forever the sentimentalist, agreed with their leader, and with both of his group mates and best friends staring back at him, hope and pride pulling the corners of their mouths upwards, Changbin had no choice but to agree.

“This is going to be the best thing we’ve ever done,” Jisung proclaimed with a maniacal rubbing of his hands and wide eyes; to anyone who didn’t know Han Jisung, he would have looked sinister. To Changbin, he simply looked sincere.

“Let’s work hard, okay?”

Chan placed his hand in between where they sat, in the same positions they were in two years ago when they decided on the name 3racha. Changbin thought it was silly then; he knew it was silly now. Now that he knew his producing and performing partners better than his own family, the monicker seemed perfectly ridiculous.

“Don’t we always?” Changbin noted, but he placed his hand on top of Jisung’s anyway.

“Tssssssss,” they hissed as they threw their hands into the air.

It was silly, but it was them.

______________

Changbin was right that additions to the tour were time-consuming. He didn’t complain, didn’t murmur a word of protest to Chan or Jisung, but the satisfaction that he was _right_ gave him something to hold onto as he left a VCR shoot at 3am, as he was pricked in the knee for the fifth time during his third wardrobe fitting of the week.

And when for the first time it registered that having backup dancers meant learning choreography that wasn’t just pacing the stage to the beat of their songs, it was the absolute annoyance in Chan’s voice that grounded Changbin. It gained him nothing but exhaustion to be right, but the aching of his muscles was a sadistic kind of satisfaction.

“How long do we have to get this shit down?” Jisung asked from the floor of the practice room, a studio up until yesterday reserved solely for the predebut idols training at the company. Chan scheduled them in for nightly practices from eleven to one in the morning as to not interfere with the trainees’ time. All three of them remembered none too fondly the dread of monthly evaluations, and they were only ever measured on their rapping skill. Changbin couldn’t imagine the stress on their labelmates to master singing and dancing and stage presence all at once.

Well, he could imagine it now, actually.

“We have two months before our first rehearsal,” Chan answered.

Changbin plopped down on the floor next to Jisung. “Let’s say I do, by some miracle, learn this dance. How the hell am I supposed to actually rap while doing it?”

“You’re not doing much when it’s your verse. We’ll be the ones working hard behind you.”

Changbin ran sweaty hands down his face. “God, there will be fancams of me on the internet looking like an actual baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time while Chan hyung raps about his insomnia.”

Jisung lifted his arm with a wince to tickle under Changbin’s chin. “That’s our baby Changbin.”

“Yah, that’s hyung” he complained but, he kept still while Jisung continued his ministrations.

“Baby Changbin _hyung_ , sorry.”

“We should put that on the merch,” Chan suggested, and Changbin laughed along with the ridiculous idea, but he made a mental note to think of five better merch ideas before tomorrow just in case.

“Could have named our group Baby Changbin and his Parents.”

“It has a much better ring to it than 3racha, honestly,” Jisung said, and on the twenty minute walk back to their shared apartment, tonight a thirty minute walk with the drag of their muscles with each step, they wrote and howled a theme song for their new group name.

Changbin only hoped there was no one taking a fancam of him tonight on this dark sidewalk as he, with practiced aegyo, sang about his ‘dads’ to the beat of his friends’ laughter.

__________

After a month of practices sandwiched in between days of songwriting and recording, Changbin felt grateful that it was only three songs out of their set list that required dancing. If his lack of photoshop-able good looks didn’t disqualify him from making a hard right career turn to idoldom, his lack of coordination certainly did. Now when a trainee passed by him in the company building with sweat-soaked T-shirt sticking to their skin, he bowed deeply and gave a quick “fighting.”

Although seeing his talented dongsaengs filled Changbin with surprisingly paternal amounts of encouragement, meeting the backup dancers for their tour, it turned out, filled him with quick and careful rage.

“The dancers have been practicing for a couple of weeks now, so they should be ready to go,” their dance teacher, Mr. Park, explained. “But we do need to coordinate everyone’s styles and blocking to make sure all of the routines are cohesive.”

So Jisung, Chan, and Changbin agreed to meet down in the practice room on a Sunday night after a long day of working on the new song they hoped to premiere on tour. Chan had an uncharacteristic writer’s block, and even though their respective studios were three doors apart, Changbin felt the frustration roll off of his leader and blanket him in warm, suffocating insecurity. Jisung, unable to do much of anything with his own verse until he knew how he would enter and exit by the bookends of his group mates, was understandably annoyed with them both.

So maybe on a different day and in a brighter mindset Changbin wouldn’t have wanted to pour his bottle of water over the head of their teacher when he stopped them just five seconds into the run-through.

“This might have been too soon,” Mr. Park suggested as he analyzed the bodies before him, now still and startled.

“We only have a month left,” Chan reminded them all, and Changbin’s anger let way to anxiety; the symbiosis caused him to coil tighter around his hurt pride.

“Did we do something wrong?” one of the backup dancers asked. There were only three of them, to Changbin’s surprise (if their inclusion was meant to increase the tour’s production value, shouldn’t there be ten? twenty?), and the one who spoke seemed like a leader.

“No, Minho, you guys look great,” Mr. Park replied. Jisung, in a response no one asked for, snorted. “There’s uh, too large of a gap right now. We need you guys,” Mr. Park pointed at Changbin, Jisung, and Chan, “to shine.”

“We can take it slow and match their skill level?” a different dancer suggested.

He was the tallest and despite how much Changbin tried to ignore it, the most beautiful. Minho’s name he wouldn’t have remembered if Mr. Park hadn’t said it, but Hyunjin he knew.

“Why don’t you guys,” this time he indicated the dancers, “come over here and watch as they dance so you get an idea of where we are.”

“Okay,” all three answered in unison as they walked to the front of the room.

Changbin took a deep breath. He was used to performing in front of hundreds, soon to be thousands of people; four men wanting nothing but to help them get better shouldn’t have rippled such alarm across his body.

Chan must have felt it, too; he took three beats longer than necessary to walk over to the laptop hooked up to the stereo system.

Despite lacking in execution, their constant practice over the past month did force memory into their muscles; they completed the routine without any forgotten steps or misfires.

“I really like your music, by the way,” the third dancer—Felix, Changbin recalled; the guy’s freckles weren’t easy to forget—said once the song came to an end. It was their first single, a song they knew the fans cherished, and despite Changbin’s reservations about the plan for this tour, he knew they would lose their minds over this choreographed version. That was, If they could actually pull it off.

Jisung visibly blushed. “Thanks.”

“This is going to look really cool once we get the dance together,” Felix added.

Minho nodded in agreement. “I know you’re working with the trainees, hyung.” Changbin wondered just how close the dancers’ agency was with his own for the leader to be on such familiar terms with the company’s choreographer. “And you guys are our only job right now, so we can work with them for the next week or so on getting the execution more exact, if that’s okay?”

It was unclear whether Minho was asking 3racha, Mr. Park, or his teammates for permission, but when everyone in the room nodded, he smiled a toothy grin.

“So evaluation next week, same time same place?”

“I hope to see improvement,” was all Mr. Park said before walking resolutely out of the studio.

Chan, still deeply bowed toward the door, shuffled his feet around in the direction of the dancers. “Thank you for offering to help,” he spoke into the hardwood.

“Thank us in a week,” Minho replied before turning his attention to Felix and Hyunjin. “Should we do this one-on-one? Focus on the opening for tonight?”

They nodded.

“Jisung needs the least amount of work. Felix you help him. Hyunjin, you go with Chan. I’ll take Changbin.”

“Are you saying I need the most amount of work?” Changbin asked as Minho approached him. Irritation clouded his common sense which yelled _these guys are helping you_ and _you don’t even know him_.

“Yes,” Minho replied plainly, and Changbin’s common sense hid behind his ego. “But you feel the beat really well.”

“I _am_ a rapper.”

“Yes, I _am_ aware.”

“So you’re also aware there’s no way I’m going to look as good as you do by this time next week?”

“Are you calling me good looking?” Minho asked. He smirked, but when Changbin did nothing but glare at him, he blinked hard and seemed to reset his focus. “You’re going to improve. Trust me. I’ll even make sure you’re the _most_ improved. Hyung will compliment you the most.”

“Now you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

Minho smiled, and Changbin felt the difficulty of keeping up with the swift switches between the serious dance teacher and the overly-friendly-considering-we-just-met regular guy.

“We’ll see.”

Changbin grumbled a quick “I guess” before getting into his starting position.

____________

“Should we like invite them to dinner tonight after practice as a thank you?” Chan asked a few days later while they took a quick break from recording.

It was yesterday when Chan’s writer’s block lifted and they spent ten hours straight writing and rearranging the new song. Chan was now convinced Hyunjin helping him with the choreography sparked his inspiration. Something about having so much patience for being so young or something that Changbin didn’t actually believe. All Minho had inspired him to do so far was practice as much as possible on his own time.

“Can we call it dinner if we leave the practice room at 2am? Where are we going to take them, the convenience store?”

Chan snapped his fingers, a tell-tale sign that he had an idea. It was this motion that began their marathon working session the previous day. “Let’s invite them over. They have to take a taxi back across town every night. We could cook something quick and then just have them sleep over.”

“We’re in the middle of the dance-week-of-doom and we’re just now getting off the ground with the song and you want to have a _sleepover_?” Changbin asked.

He peeked over at Jisung for support, but a hint of a smile had already found its way onto his  face. “We won’t be dancing or writing while we’re sleeping, Changbinnie hyung. It’ll be fun. We all need to relax.”

That was true, though he didn’t admit it aloud. He much preferred the exhaustion-laden giggles and the long-winded stories and the silly games in the backs of vans while they were actually on tour to the constant feeling of beating his head against a wall that was all too familiar while they prepared. There was something about the process of making music that was a kind of willful amnesia. The process was often painful, either in execution or in dredging up a memory, a moment, preserved in shame or shadow, but the payoff was so satisfying that when the process began all over again, the aches and the anxieties were forgotten.

So while Changbin wouldn’t actually say that he agreed, Chan knew his silence to be a white flag and promptly announced that he would text Hyunjin and ask if they were available to stay over tonight.

“Do you have Felix’s number?” Changbin whispered over at Jisung while Chan typed with a lopsided grin.

“Do you not have Minho’s?” was his response. “Felix offered his just in case I had any questions.”

“Hmmm,” Changbin hummed. Maybe Minho read him better than he had assumed. Changbin wouldn’t have admitted he needed help to himself or to anyone else, and definitely not to Minho.

“Okay, they agreed,” Chan announced with a clap.

If a snap denoted inspiration, claps were satisfaction.

“Wait. Where is everyone going to sleep?” Jisung asked. “We only have a couch and a loveseat at the apartment.”

“We have plenty of blankets, we’ll make a cot on the floor.”

Changbin wasn’t sure whoever was unlucky enough to get the floor would have picked the sleepover over suffering through a fifteen minute taxi ride to rest in their own bed, but their leader’s enthusiasm to get back to work pushed any thought of tonight aside.

He could worry about dancing and dancers later. Right now, he had a song to finish.

___________

“Welcome!” Jisung announced as they all toed off their shoes at the entrance of the apartment that night.

“You don’t have to yell,” Chan complained. He ruffled Jisung’s hair, and with the sweat of the last three hours of dance practice, it stood straight out in sharp angles from his head.  

“Cute,” Changbin heard Minho mumble from beside him.

“You guys wash up, I’ll start on the ramen.” Chan waved them off toward the hallway while he headed to the kitchen.

“Um.” All five of them stood in between Changbin’s bedroom and the bathroom. Jisung seemed to register the dilemma as soon as Changbin did. Usually, they had a system when all three of them arrived home at the same time: one person showered, one person cleaned, one person made food. Each night, they rotated. Going to sleep knowing they’d all wake up to a clean apartment and without hunger made the system work. With guests, though, the single bathroom served only as an inconvenience.

“Felix, you can go first,” Jisung offered.

“Oh, hyung can go,” Felix replied with a hand on the small of Minho’s back. He pushed him gently toward the bathroom door.

Changbin expected Minho to pay the gesture forward by offering Hyunjin the first spot, but he walked in and shut the door without another word.

“You guys can put your stuff down in my room,” Changbin suggested, knowing well that Jisung’s room would be messier than he’d want his new friends to see.

As Jisung shifted to a new role of entertaining the shower group, Changbin picked up quickly in the living room. He folded the blanket Jisung always used when he watched dramas and put away the Jenga game they pulled out last week without ever actually playing. He would have vacuumed the rug and wiped off the coffee table if Chan made the sleepover plan any farther in advance, but at the very least their shared living spaces weren’t a total disaster. They weren’t home enough for them to be, thank goodness.

“Need help?” Changbin asked upon checking in on Chan in the kitchen.

Chan turned away from the stove with cheeks flushed from the steam rolling off of the large pot of boiling water. “Can you set the table for me?”

It was while Changbin tried fitting five bowls and five napkins and five sets of chopsticks on their tiny kitchen table that he realized not once before had they entertained guests at this apartment. When they still lived in the building that housed their company’s trainees and rookies, it wasn’t uncommon for friends to filter in and out in the evening when they were all too wired from hours of training after school to actually fall asleep. Now their apartment was where they firmly shut the door on reminders of work.

And maybe that was why Changbin was so uncomfortable with the sleepover. Lee Minho walking into his kitchen with wet hair and checkered pajama pants was not what he wanted to come home to; the clash of his work and his home life threatened a headache behind his eyes.

“You can wash up next, Channie hyung. I’ll take over.” Minho peered over the pot before walking to the fridge. “Mind if I improvise?”

“Go for it.,” Chan answered, to Changbin’s surprise. Even on his most tiring of days, Chan never allowed Changbin or Jisung to take over the cooking or cleaning responsibilities so he could shower first. Something about the leader’s burden. “I’ll be quick and come back.”

Changbin watched, standing like a stranger in his own kitchen, as Minho grabbed sausages and dumplings from the fridge and set to chopping additives to their usual, comparatively plain ramen.

Minho threw a glance over his shoulder once the pot was back to a boil.

“How are you feeling, by the way?”

Changbin took a few seconds to consider what the hell Minho could mean by that before answering, “like in general, or?”

Minho giggled, unafraid to let teasing bubble over into his tone. “I mean, you can tell me that, too, but I meant about the choreography. You didn’t say much tonight. Or last night. Or the night before. Hyunjin and Felix won’t stop making fun of me for picking the most awkward pairing. They’re probably having the time of their best-friends-lives back there while you still look like I might eat you.”

The knowledge that the dancers were talking about him behind his back made Changbin slightly nauseated. “Sorry, I don’t collect hyungs and take over other people’s kitchens when I first meet them like you do.”

Minho turned around fully. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I just like to feel comfortable. What’s the point in feeling weird and embarrassed, especially when you have to spend time with someone no matter what? We can just cut out the middle part where we’re awkward as fuck around each other, walking on eggshells, and get to bickering and having fun.” Minho paused. “If you’re capable of that.”

“Capable of what?” Jisung asked on his way to the fridge to grab three bottles of water.

“Jisungie, how does our theme song go again?” Changbin asked, and they filled the kitchen with the a loud chorus of the song they made up in their sleepy sidewalk stupor. Changbin thought he heard Chan’s unmistakable harmony from down the hall.

Minho looked taken aback at their ridiculous song and dance, unsure of whether he should be laughing with them or at them or disowning them all regardless. Now who was the one who didn’t know how to have fun?

Changbin ended their song with an exaggerated high note, grabbed a spare piece of sausage off the cutting board beside Minho, and whispered a quick “yes, I’m capable of that,” before leaving the kitchen to prepare for his own shower.

_____________

“Wait, wait, wait.” Hyunjin held his arms out in front of him, one chopstick in each of his hands as if he were conducting an orchestra of awe and disbelief at their late-night dinner table. “You’ve never been to a proper party? Like ever?”

Chan shook his head as he chewed a large bite of the meal Minho made and Changbin reluctantly admitted was stupidly good. “I came to Korea when I was practically a kid and I’ve trained ever since. I snuck out a few times with my friends in the company, but we tried getting into clubs instead of going to house parties. Though I guess in hindsight we would have had more success if we just hung out with friends from school instead of trying to make ourselves look so much older than we were.”

Chan’s voice sounded nostalgic and unmistakably sad. Debuting was a triple-edged sword. You meet your fans but you lose your friends and your family.

“You have more freedom once you debut, right?” Felix asked from the end of the table.

All three of the rappers nodded.

“Especially since we aren’t an idol group. Our image isn’t really that big of a deal, but now we’re too busy to do much of anything,” Jisung answered.

“This is like a party,” Minho noted. “You have friends over. It’s three in the morning. We’re eating drunk food. Now all we need is to play a game of never have I ever and make sure someone’s making out sloppily on the couch before we all go to bed and it’s like you never missed out on a thing.”

“Is this drunk food?” Changbin wondered aloud. “This is kind of fancy for us.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Hire me as your personal chef. You all need more meat on your bones, no wonder you get tired at practice so easily.”

“Yah,” Chan complained, “We’ve gotten better. Jisung could join your company at this point.”

“We’ll trade. You take Minho, we’ll take Jisung,” Felix proposed.

“No!” both Changbin and Minho yelled.

Minho looked betrayed but not at Felix, at Changbin.

“Excuse me. Why wouldn’t you want me? I can make you upscale ramen, help you with your dancing, throw parties here while you’re on tour.”

“You’ll be on tour with them, dumbass,” Hyunjin said.

“Oh, yeah.”

They laughed, and Minho seemed to forget his irritation as he beamed at his ability to entertain the table. Changbin was unsure why Minho worked as a backup dancer when he so clearly liked being the center of attention. An image of Minho rapping with 3racha while Changbin danced behind them flitted through his mind without cause or caution, and he almost choked on his dumpling at the thought.

Hyunjin’s serious “oh my god” pulled Changbin out of his own head.

“We should throw a going away party. Like just a get together for all of our friends before we go on tour,” and at the look of hesitance on Changbin’s face, he added, “We can do it at our apartment.”

“Hey, who said I want someone making out on our couch?”

“Minho hyung,” Felix asked, “No one said anything about a plan to hook up except for you.”

“Ooooooh. Is Minho _hyung_ seeing someone?” Changbin asked.

If Minho wanted bickering, Changbin could give him bickering.

“I’m in a relationship with your dancing right now. I stay up at night thinking about you getting better, I might just kiss your knees if you get that one part of the chorus down by the evaluation,” Minho answered.

Chan scrunched up his face. “His knees?”

“I was going to say his feet and was going to spare you, but now I’ve said it so you’re going to have to imagine me sucking on Changbinnie’s toes anyway.”

This was _not_ what Changbin signed up for when he decided to let Minho manufacture their friendship.

“I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight, thanks Minho hyung,” Hyunjin lamented as he picked up his empty bowl and scooting back from the table.

“You’re welcome,” Minho answered brightly.

____________

“Okay, we have the couch, the love seat, and then extra blankets for a cot. I’m sorry we don’t have a spare bedroom or something,” Chan explained.

“If Minho hyung’s going to be chomping on Changbin hyung’s toes anyway, he can just stay in his room,” Hyunjin noted from his place on the couch, head already on a pillow, and Changbin, without a word, pulled off his socks, threw them in Hyunjin’s face, and headed to bed.

____________

Changbin couldn’t regret having to hear feet fetish jokes for the rest of the week when the mood of their practices transitioned from tense to teasing. There was no less diligence, no less dedication, but the laughter that eased out of Changbin left his shoulders relaxed and his legs quick. He felt ready for Mr. Park to see the choreography an entire day before the official evaluation, but he agreed with the dancers that they needed to spend a day practicing the routine all together instead of in the usual pairs.

He was used to Minho watching him at this point, his distanced, critical stare as he evaluated his progress from the other side of the room and his focused gaze as he stood just one foot away, mirroring Changbin’s movements with more ease than Changbin could ever hope for. But seeing Felix and Hyunjin in front him, all three of the dancers standing in an intimidating line in front of the mirror, felt altogether different.

Minho, at least, knew that he favored his weight on his left leg ever since his parents’ car accident when he was twelve, knew he had trouble with shoulder movement and even though it wasn’t perfect, he’d shown improvement. Minho knew those things and didn’t make fun of him or make him feel stupid.

He did end up feeling like an idiot once the final note of the song ended, but only because Felix and Hyunjin erupted in boisterous applause. Changbin’s anxieties, as usual, were unfounded.

“So?” Jisung asked, eager for feedback.

Minho smiled widely with his arms across his chest while Hyunjin broke into fake sobs.

“You’re going to take our jobs,” he cried as Felix hung onto his shoulder, consoling him.

“I can’t believe we’re going on tour with dancing legends 3racha,” Felix said, prompting Jisung to walk over and punch him in the arm.

“Shut up.”

“Be serious,” Chan pleaded, nerves clear across his face. “How does it look?”

“We’ve worked with idol groups mostly before this,” Minho explained. “They’re always mechanically in-sync, which has merit in its own right, but you guys all maintain your own style while still looking cohesive.” He smiled that toothy grin of his. “You look cool as fuck.”

“Why don’t we record them?” Felix suggested. “You can see for yourself.”

So they huddled around the screen after performing the song once more. Jisung’s exhausted breaths filled the uncharacteristically quiet studio as Hyunjin tried feabily to find a position where they could all comfortably watch the video.

In the end, Minho leaned his head on Changbin’s shoulder while Hyunjin and Felix knelt down in front of the rappers.

“Your isolation has gotten so much better,” Minho said just quiet enough for Changbin to hear. “We didn’t really work that much on the verses where you’re rapping, I didn’t know how cool you’d look. I honestly don’t know why your company is making you do this choreo when you have that much charisma on your own.”

Changbin couldn’t focus on his own dancing or the way they all three looked together—something he’d never once seen them do on video before—with Minho whispering against his neck.

He asked Hyunjin to text him the video instead and hoped no one noticed the blush he felt spreading across his cheeks. He was just as used to Minho’s praise as he was his criticism, but for Minho to compliment him when Chan and Jisung, clearly better at executing the choreography, were dancing alongside him, made him feel embarrassed.

“If Hyunjin has your number, I want your number,” Felix said once Changbin handed Hyunjin back his phone.

“Oh, Felix, if you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask,” Changbin teased with an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows.

“He literally did just ask,” Jisung deadpanned, and Chan had to physically place his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at their maknae’s quick and clear jealousy.

“Oh my god, we should make a group chat.”

“Hyunjin, no,” Minho cautioned. “You two already never shut up in our chat and you four already never shut up at practice, I’ll never go a second without a notification.”

“Hyuuuung,” Hyunjin whined, hanging on one of Minho’s arms. Felix walked around to grasp the other. “It’ll be fun. You can spam Chan hyung with cat pictures, you’re both old cat ladies.”

“And you can annoy Jisung, that’s your favorite pastime,” Felix added.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Changbin pouted his best, over-exaggerated pout, though the dramatics were only half false. Minho had a clear opportunity to ask for his number and didn’t seem interested even though they were, against Changbin’s best efforts, actually becoming friends.

“Look, you’re upsetting baby Changbin,” Chan said, and suddenly everyone except Minho was pouting, too.

“I will block all of your numbers if you annoy me,” was Minho’s concession, and Changbin had no doubt that was actually true.

In the end, Minho still never asked for his number. Hyunjin made the chat and added all of them before they were packed up and ready to head home for the night.

_you know what I just realized? we won’t see each other everyday after tomorrow_ Jisung sent to the group that night as Changbin rewatched the choreography video for the third time. He wasn’t sure that them not looking in sync was as much of a positive as Minho made it out to seem, but he did agree that his time in the center performing the first ever verse he released as 3racha was ‘fucking cool.’

_did you really fall in love with me after one week, Jisung?_

Changbin assumed Felix sent the reply and was initially impressed by his tenacity, but the vomiting emojis everyone else, including Felix, spammed into the chat made him realize it was Minho who was brazenly flirting.

_what he means to say is that there are still two more choreographies to learn, and once Mr. Park sees how kick ass you all look tomorrow, he’s going to ask us to keep helping._

Changbin smiled at Felix’s unwavering optimism and support. He swallowed his embarrassment to send a quick thank you to them all before finally putting down his phone and allowing himself to sleep.

___________

“He didn’t compliment me specifically, you know,” Changbin told Minho after Mr. Park’s evaluation the following day.

Hyunjin had suggested they all go out for ice cream, a celebration for the positive feedback and for the confirmation that the dancers would continue to help the rappers with the choreography until they left for the tour. Changbin sat in the corner of a large booth at the bakery famous in their company for being open late and very rarely occupied by fans—he wore his hat down low even still—and tried not to think about just how out of the ordinary it was for them to be spending time with anyone other than each other while they were working on music.

Beneath the surface of Changbin’s current worries—his lyrics, his dancing, the hook in the new song, whether their tour would sell out, how much money he could send his parents home this month—was the concern that spending time with Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix, no matter how entertaining they were, was ultimately a distraction from their music. The choreography was an addition; the dancers’ easy fit into their lives was an addition. He wasn’t brave enough to peak below and confront that directly, especially not now, when Hyunjin poked his cheek and called him cute for simply eating his ice cream.

Minho shoo’d away Hyunjin’s hand.

“I saw him looking at you, though.” Minho leaned in close, not unlike Hyunjin had just a moment ago. “You stand out the most.”

Changbin placed his palm on Minho’s forehead and pushed him back out of his personal space. “Because I’m that bad? Harsh, Minho hyung.”

“Shut up, you know I was complimenting you, why can’t you ever just accept me being nice?”

“You tease too much,” Changbin explained, “I can never tell when you’re serious except when we’re practicing.”

“Yah, can you two stop flirting, we’re trying to make a schedule over here.”

Changbin knew _exactly_ when Chan was serious and when he was playful, and despite the dots of leftover sprinkles on his top lip, Chan was clearly in the mood to talk about work.

“We weren’t—“ Changbin began, but Chan waved his protest away.

“We have three weeks left before rehearsals start, four weeks until we leave for the first city. We’re probably going to have to double up on dance practice to get the two other choreographies ready.”

“How much work do you have left on the set list?” Felix asked.

“Final recording of the new song is scheduled for this Friday,” Jisung replied. “We have to finish three remixes, and then it’s just practicing the performances live.”

“And then we party,” Hyunjin reminded them all.

Chan smiled at the thought but quickly directed back. “Once everything is perfect, yes, we can do the going away party. So if you guys are good to continue working with us at night on the weekdays, we can add an extra practice in the mornings? I’ll have to talk to Mr. Park about not interfering with the trainees.”

Changbin nodded along with Jisung before remembering something he’d been meaning to ask Minho. “How do you know Mr. Park, by the way?”

“Huh?” He offered his cone toward Changbin, who shook his head. “I met him at the same time I met you guys.”

“You called him hyung, though? We don’t even feel that comfortable with him.”

“Oh, that. it’s a habit I picked up when I worked with idol groups. There are so many trainees that if you just pretend like you’ve met someone before and act close with them, they usually don’t notice. Skipping the awkward stage, remember? I told you I wanted to do the same with you that night at your apartment, I just usually don’t have to actually state it out loud, I just do it.”

“You were his toughest case yet, Changbin hyung,” Felix added. “Which doesn’t make sense, really, when you easily talked to me after our first practice together. You asked me about my accent and encouraged me to talk more to Chan hyung.”

It was only a week ago, but it easily felt like months had passed since the dancers became a fixture of their evenings. Changbin remembered showing Felix the fridge stocked with cold water and finding it easy to engage in the obligatory small talk with him. He was clearly a little nervous but clearly kind. Minho wasn’t clearly anything except a nuisance.

“Maybe Hyunjin’s right, you’re just the awkward pair,” Chan suggested.

Now Changbin knew that not only did Hyunjin, Felix, and Minho talk about him when he wasn’t around but so did Chan. Great.

“Good thing there’s a couples dance for the third choreography. You’ll be close in no time.”

Changbin and Chan both snapped their attention to Jisung. “What?” they asked at the same time.

“Oh, Felix showed me. We’re like paired up and the dancers are behind us with their arms around us—it’s hard to explain, Felix can just send the video to the group chat.”

“Who says I’m going to be paired with Changbinnie, though?” Minho asked with his face scrunched in mock disgust.

When Changbin played with the spoon in his ice cream instead of replying, Minho leaned in and whispered, “ _that_ was teasing. Of course it’s going to be us together.”

He looked over, not pushing Minho back this time. “I didn’t want to act too happy at the thought of working with Hyunjin and now I don’t want to act too disappointed at the thought of working with you.”

Minho’s mouth dropped open; Changbin’s head dropped backwards as he laughed.

“And that was _me_ teasing,” he managed out.

“I changed my mind,” Hyunjin supplied when Minho responded with nothing other than a pump of his fist, “you two are the weird pairing. I’ll never understand your weird ass tension.”

“I don’t think they understand it either,” Chan whispered just as Changbin shoved his shoulder into Minho’s.

____________

By the time Friday arrived, Changbin felt once again like himself. Not like a predebut hopeful learning the basics for the first time, not like a member of a high school clique of friends with group chats and inside jokes, just Seo Changbin, maker of music.

“When you’re ready,” Chan directed from outside of the recording booth.

The silence of the moment just before Changbin took a deep breath and gave the motion to Jisung to begin the playback was one Changbin knew best. It was not awkward nor heavy, not even anticipatory despite its station. It was a single moment meant just for him alone, and Changbin wasn’t sure he’d ever feel as _right_ as he did just before recording. Being on stage was a close second, but performances weren’t for himself, not really; they were for the fans. Right now, he got to be selfish.

He could say the same syllable over and over and over again with the inflection just slightly left of the last until every piece fell into place; he could change his mind, rewrite an entire verse on the spot, and as long as the image still looked clear, what was essentially an impulse, an instinct, went on an album for thousands of people to hear.

Changbin didn’t allow himself to improvise when he wasn’t in this booth.

But when he flicked his wrist at Jisung, he began without a plan. He just _felt_.

“Holy shit,” he heard Jisung say through his headphones when he finished. His eyes were still closed, his breathing heavy, and he probably could have used ten more seconds of silence before hearing the familiar click of the microphone. “I don’t even know if we need to do another take, listen to this.”

He only listened to the first thirty seconds before asking to go again.

____________

“When are we going to start teasing the new song?” Changbin asked as they all three made the way down to the dance studio for evening practice. The morning’s session, unaided by their teachers, was more frustrating than it was fruitful. Luckily, the catharsis of the recording session left the memory at the outskirts of Changbin’s mind.

“I think manager hyung said a week before the tour starts. Then we’ll perform it at the first two Seoul shows, then release it to everyone else the day after.”

“I wonder if they’ll be disappointed we didn’t do a music video for this one,” Jisung said. “Now that it’s done, I kind of wish we had.”

“It would have been hard to pull off around all the preparations,” Changbin noted before almost tripping on the final stair. The sound of Chan’s _snap_ bounced of the walls of the staircase and tangled itself under his feet.

“What if we film something on stage? Like at the second show we have selfie sticks and like show the crowd and stuff?” Their leader shook both of their shoulders with excitement. “That could be fun! What do you think?”

Changbin raised his hand, causing Chan’s to fall off of his shoulder. “I petition we use Minho hyung’s phone to record the video so if I accidentally drop it, it’s no problem.”

Jisung sputtered out a laugh. “Good luck convincing him of that. I’m all in on the music video, Channie hyung, that’s a great idea. You can talk to the managers about it tomorrow?”

Chan hummed an affirmative before pulling out his phone to add a reminder to visit the staff offices before heading to morning practice.

“Oh. Hyunjin texted the group chat. They’re bringing along some friends today to help, I guess.”

_More dancers, more distractions_ Changbin thought, and as he pushed open the doors to the studio to a high-pitched scream, he once again felt the simultaneous satisfaction and sourness of being right.

He couldn’t tell where the screech originated from when all three of the newcomers bowed deeply at their arrival.

“Woojin hyung, Seungminnie, Jeonginnie, this is 3racha,” Minho announced.

Changbin bowed, too, but when he stood back up, the guests remained bent toward the floor.

“Uh, they’re fans,” Felix explained after knocking his shoe against Seungmin’s.

“You’re embarrassing us, stand up.” Hyunjin pulled Jeongin up by his shoulders and the other two followed.

“No, no, we’re flattered,” Chan said at the discomfort on their friends’ faces. “We don’t meet that many people who listen to our music, actually.”

“Well, Woojin hyung has a shrine to you in his closet, so you might not want to meet any more fans after this.”

Woojin sent a clearly embarrassed smile up at the ceiling, causing Changbin to fear for Minho’s life, but Woojin seemed to gather his courage amongst the tiles and sent his grin directly at the artists opposite him. Changbin couldn’t help but wonder if by the end of the tour he might be just as resistant to Minho’s antics.

“Anyway, we brought the babies along to help visualize the partner stuff,” Hyunjin said.

Woojin didn’t flinch at being deemed one of the babies, but Jeongin, who looked the youngest, rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you guys sit? We’ll show you what it looks like.”

In hindsight, Changbin should have known that a song about a relationship falling apart would have choreography that was intense and intimate, yet watching Minho wrap his hands around Woojin’s chest and bury his face into his back had Changbin shifting his gaze quickly to Jeongin and Felix.

“I guess we’re going to have over-ear mics instead of hand-helds,” Jisung mused. An entire thirty seconds of the performance held that position of arms constrained to the body while the dancer clung on close to the back.

Jeongin, Woojin, and Seungmin then rolled their heads backward to lean against their partners’ before popping their chests forward to finally break the hold. The motion timed perfectly with the bridge.

Surprisingly simple, the 3racha stand-ins took just one step forward to stand in front of the dancers who silently hung their heads.

Changbin knew every beat and every syllable in this song, but he felt like he was understanding it for the first time.

“Wow,” he shared aloud when the music stopped. Despite his focus on the middle of the room, his eyes traveled back to Minho, who grinned at the praise.

“It’s cool, right? And you can learn it fast. We just have to work on the timing,” Hyunjin said with arms wrapped around a reluctant-looking Seungmin.

Changbin hopped up from his spot on the floor. “Let’s get started, then.” He smiled widely. “Finally, main dancer Seo Changbin has arrived.”

___________

_what cologne do you use?_

Changbin quickly flipped over his vibrating phone with the intention of only peeking at the notification before turning back to his laptop. He’d taken on the responsibility of finishing the rock remix of a fan favorite bside from their last album while Chan and Jisung worked on remixes of their own. Changbin knew he should leave the studio and go to bed—Monday morning dance practice started in just four hours—but he’d already wasted his weekend away scrapping three versions that probably would have been fine but weren’t perfect.

He found it difficult to ignore the text sitting atop his lock screen—a picture of the microphone that stood in the recording booth on the other side of the glass in front of him.

Changbin unlocked his phone to see that Minho hadn’t sent his message to the group chat; for the first time, he contacted Changbin directly.

The expansive white space under Minho’s question stared back at him. They didn’t spend time away from the group except for that night in the kitchen weeks ago; Changbin didn’t technically know what a conversation between just the two of them sounded like or looked like or felt like, especially now that they were actually close rather than Minho’s false fabrication of friendship.

He slipped off his headphones, accepting that if Minho wanted to talk to him at three in the morning, he was probably in for an entire conversation rather than a quick exchange of replies.

_who’s asking?_

_what do you mean weirdo literally me_

_i didn’t know if hyunjin asked felix to ask you to ask me you know :/_

_in what world would hyunjin care what cologne you wear_

_in what world do YOU care what cologne i wear?_

_the world where ive spent the last week with my face resting on your back and the world where i can’t stop thinking about how good you always smell and the world where i can’t sleep and now im convinced if my pillow smelled like your back i might be able to finally go the hell to bed_

Changbin blinked. Once. Twice. His fingers hovered above the keyboard filled with letters he no longer understood when Minho arranged them into that collection of three a.m words.

_my mom bought it for me last year on my birthday. i don’t even known the name. i can look when i go home_

_where are you if you’re not home?_

_studio_

_it’s the weekend. sleep._

_technically it’s already monday_

_technically you’re a dummy who works too hard_

_you’re one to talk. you helping us isn’t even included in your pay_

_id go on your tour for free. i just like to dance. it’s a bonus that i can make a living doing it_

_i feel the same way about my music, i understand_

_so we’re both dummies_

_was that ever even a question?_

_if we’re in this boat together we could at least lean against each other and sleep_

_just say you want to sleep cuddled against my back and go_

_good NIGHT seo changbin_

______________

Changbin slept for two hours before walking to the convenience store around the corner from their apartment to buy a small plastic spray bottle. He carefully emptied half of his cologne into the travel container, drew a lopsided ‘sleep potion’ on the side in permanent marker, and packed it in his bag to head back to the company building for morning practice.

_______________

That night, Minho sent him a picture. The lighting was dark, but Changbin could see the contented smile on Minho’s face as he buried his head into his pillow.

_thank you <3 _

_sleep well minho hyung_

________________

“I have to say, I wasn’t sure you all would pull this off, and I am positive you wouldn’t be as prepared if Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix didn’t help, but you are in fact ready for rehearsals to start on Monday,” Mr. Park informed them after a practice run of their entire set list, sans dancers. The third choreography had taken only a week to learn, and with the spacing of the dances, the new song, the remixes, and the old standards, Changbin, Jisung, and Chan stood in front of their dance teacher and managers with proud, excited smiles.

They waited until the dance practice room that surprisingly became so familiar to them over the past month was empty of their staff before jumping around in a group hug.

“We’re going to have so much fun,” Jisung declared.

Chan yelled nonsensically in response.

Changbin broke from the huddle to fling his arms wildly about in dance.

Jisung punched the air.

With suspiciously appropriate timing, all three of their phones pinged with Hyunjin’s _TIME TO CELEBRATE_.

______________

“And how many people are going to be there?” Changbin’s sister asked. Even in the low quality of his phone screen, she looked healthy and just as happy to finally be facetiming him as he was to see her. Changbin always told his parents and his sister that he’d call, but he would be lying if he didn’t admit that more often than not, they were the ones to reach out to him.

“I don’t know, technically. At the very least, nine. The three of us, the three dancers, and then three of their friends that helped us out. And then it’ll be whoever else that would want to see us off. Like _you_ , my favorite sister.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “I’m your only sister. Do you really want such an elderly woman at your party? You’re all kids.”

“I’m two years younger than you, noona, and yes, it’d be cool if you came. I won’t see you again for months. You know you’re going to miss this face.” Changbin brought his phone close to his cheek and batted his eyelashes.

It only took three rounds of aegyo and a promise to call her after every show to get Mina to agree.

_my sister’s coming tonight so everyone has to be on their best behavior_ Changbin warned the group chat

He expected the usual jokes he got all throughout high school and college (is she hot? is she single? can you give me her number?) but his friends simply sent thumbs up emojis instead.

And they stayed true to that agreement once Changbin and Mina actually stood in front of them that night. She’d taken the train in from her apartment on the outskirts of the city, and Changbin drove them both over to the address Hyunjin texted him.

The drive wasn’t that long but it did seem circuitous; they didn’t stay on one single highway for longer than five miles before having to exit and enter another. Changbin thought of Minho driving at three in the morning with his eyes and his limbs tired and wished they’d offered their apartment more often in the past month.

Even still, they arrived earlier than Chan and Jisung.

“Hyunjin, this is my sister, Mina,” Changbin introduced as they stood awkwardly inside of the living room. Their apartment was larger than any one Changbin had ever lived in. The living room had enough space for two full couches and a big screen tv. Framed along the walls were posters from the shows they’d been in. He saw Minho’s silhouette most often.

Hyunjin bowed deeply and flashed a smile so disarmingly cute Mina held her hand over her heart.

Felix and Minho emerged from a hallway on the far side of the kitchen and it was only then that Changbin realized just how underdressed he was. He wore jeans and a long black T-shirt. He had parted his bangs and put on his favorite accessories, but these seemed like petty efforts when he saw Minho’s outfit. It wasn’t complicated—he wore a white T-shirt tucked into black slacks with a black dress shirt, unbuttoned, over top—but he looked polished and put together and pretty.

“Hi,” Changbin greeted with a small wave. Minho smiled warmly before turning to greet Mina.

A knock sounded at the door, and Hyunjin, the designated host despite all three of the dancers living in the same apartment, excused himself.

Minho motioned them into the kitchen where an impressive spread of food, alcohol, and soda resided on an island in the middle of the space.

“Are you guys hungry? Changbin, we have your favorite chips, oh, and I also picked up those banana puff things you like so much.”

Changbin grabbed a cup and handed it to Mina. “How did you even remember I like those?”

“You bought Felix three bags when you found out he’d never tried them and then hand-fed him for an entire night of practice, coo’ing when he chewed.”

“I thought Minho hyung bought these for me,” Felix added as he entered the kitchen. “but he told me they were especially for you, Changbin hyung.”

He wanted to thank Minho, or to ruffle his hair, or to punch him in the arm, or offer to pay him for the snacks or something. He didn’t have a chance to decide what expressing gratitude to Lee Minho would be like when Jisung, having apparently arrived, yelled a shrill “Changbinnie hyung!” from the living room.

Changbin turned to Mina to apologize for abandoning her so soon, but Minho already had her full attention. He popped a banana puff in his mouth and retraced his steps to find Jisung, Chan, and Woojin all taking pictures on the couch closest to the tv.

“3racha is complete!” Woojin announced, excited to see all three of them together in the same room as him. “Here, I’ll be your photographer. You need pictures to remember tonight.”

Changbin joined his best friends, sitting on the far cushion for just a moment before deciding to throw himself across their laps. He posed with a peace sign framing his eye and a wide smile while Woojin clicked away.

“Get in here,” Chan demanded once Woojin had to have exhausted the amount of angles and filters available on his phone. They took selfies while Changbin sat on Jisung’s lap and Woojin on Chan’s.

“If we ever need a photographer, we’ll give you a call,” Jisung told Woojin seriously.

Changbin left them with a laugh hidden behind his hand at the look of shock on Woojin’s face.

“You have _how_ many patients at once?” Changbin heard Minho ask as he made his way back to his sister. He didn’t know what was more alarming, that Minho and Mina were consumed in conversation when at no point had Changbin considered that they might have anything at all in common or that they both held cats in their arms while they did so.

“Did you both give birth while I was gone?”

“Right out of my ear canal, she came right out of here.” Minho pointed to the left side of his head.

Changbin threw a banana puff at his friend’s head. “You are so weird, Lee Minho.”

“Do you have much room to talk, Seo Changbin? You actually thought mothers threw up babies out of their mouths when you were a kid.”

Minho cackled so loud the cat in his arms lept to the floor, more afraid of Minho’s teasing than heights.

“God, please don’t tell me you were telling hyung embarrassing childhood stories while I was gone?”

Mina scratched at the ears of the orange cat in her arms. “No, no, Minho was just asking me about my job. You didn’t come up at all before you walked right into that one yourself.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know?” Minho bumped his shoulder against Changbin’s. “It actually revolves around Mina. Think your patients will be okay without you while you come on tour with us?”

Changbin paused with a banana puff held halfway to his mouth.

He felt that familiar pang of doubt, the uncertainty that his friends liked his sister more than him, that his career wasn’t as impressive as hers, that he couldn’t support their parents in the same way she could. Minho was joking, he knew that, but a wave of worry washed over him nonetheless.

“On second thought, maybe it’s best if your impression of me is preserved in tonight’s memory and you don’t have to witness how haggard I look when I wake up in the morning,” Minho redirected with a worried glance over at Changbin.

“You look literally the same,” Changbin noted after swallowing down his snack and his shame.

“Oh. Wait. OH.” Mina appeared to work through several realizations at once.

“What?” Changbin asked.

“You two.” She shifted the cat’s weight onto one arm so she could wiggle her finger between them. “Got it. I’m up to speed.”

Changbin took a long sip of the only rum and coke he planned to have tonight. “Up to speed with _what_ exactly?”

Mina winked, placed the cat gently on the floor and claimed she needed to go catch up with Chan before leaving Minho and Changbin alone in the kitchen.

“She talked to you for too long, now she’s acting weird.”

“You okay?” Minho asked unexpectedly, not taking Changbin’s bickering bait.

“Yeah...why?”

“Just making sure.” He propped himself up on the counter opposite the island. Changbin didn’t know why Minho, who so often was at the center of whatever the rest of their team--and they were a team now, weren’t they?--was up to, was hanging out in the kitchen at his own party. He could hear more voices filling the apartment now; Jeongin and Seungmin were finally here, and someone called to a ‘jinyoung’ Changbin didn’t know. No one came looking for them or looking for food or for drink. “Congratulations, by the way. I haven’t said that to you in person yet. You worked hard, and the tour’s going to be fucking incredible.”

Changbin stood in front of his dangling legs. “You deserve literally all the credit. Without your help…” He ran his fingers through his hair as if wiping the possibility of how this would have turned out otherwise from his mind.

Minho reached over and smoothed Changbin’s bangs like he’d done it a million times before. Changbin’s pulse quickened with the realization that outside of practice and outside of teasing him, Minho didn’t usually touch him much at all.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who put in the hours in the practice room both when we were there and when we weren’t. You didn’t give up. You didn’t even complain. And you’ve improved so much, just, take the praise. You’re the one who deserves it.”

“Well, I’m saying the same to you. I know Mr. Park’s choreographies probably seemed easy to you guys, but they were fucking hard for us and now we actually look like we know what we’re doing. Congratulations to you, too, Minho hyung.”

“Oh.” Minho scratched at the back of his neck in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “Those were actually all of my routines. Hyung sent us your songs last month and asked us to choreograph the dances for you. That’s why he was so open to letting us teach you, I think.”

“Oh,” Changbin echoed. “Why didn’t you ever take credit? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Minho shrugged. “What’s the point? Wouldn’t change how you perform the routines, wouldn’t change how you thought about the steps or how fast you learned them. All that mattered was that you guys were ready to perform and that the songs looked cool on stage. And we did all of that. What it looks like next week when we’re in front of a crowd will be recognition enough.”

Changbin slapped Minho’s thigh in response, and a look of surprise flashed on Minho’s face before he hit Changbin back. “What was that for?”

“You’re too humble. You’re annoying. You can’t be this good at something, stand in the background in front of performers who are shittier at dancing than you are, not take credit for making the damn dances, not be the one whose name everybody knows when you work this hard and,” Changbin waved his hand in front of Minho’s face, “look like that, it makes no sense.”

Minho reached over behind Changbin and grabbed his rum and coke off the counter.

“Drink, Changbin. You’re the one making absolutely no sense.”

“Okay, I’ve stalled long enough, I think everyone wants to get some food,” Mina said from the entryway of the kitchen. “Can we come in?”

Minho hopped down from the counter and nodded as if he understood what it was she meant by that.

Changbin didn’t understand, not his sister, not Lee Minho, not the annoyance he felt under his skin, or the ghost of a touch on his forehead.

______________

No one sloppily made out on a couch, no one played a complicated drinking game, no one threw up on Hyunjin’s porch, so Changbin wasn’t sure if the going away party counted as a real party after all.

He had fun, either way. Somehow Jeongin convinced them to perform their three choreographed songs for his sister and the other few dancer friends Hyunjin had invited. Changbin was barely a schooled dancer on a hardwood floor surrounded by mirrors, so his confidence wavered as he slipped on dew-covered grass behind the apartment complex.

It was Mina’s smile, brighter than the porch light, and her rapturous applause that gave him all of the validation he needed.

“I wish I could be there tonight,” she said a week later when Changbin called her before the first show. He knew to have technically promised to call after each stop on the tour, but for the opening night, when his nerves caused him to pace back and forth in the waiting room, he decided he’d rearrange the schedule. “So do mom and dad.”

“I wouldn’t expect you old people to hang out in the pit anyway,” Changbin teased.

“Please, I’m pretty sure dad would start a mosh pit himself if it meant supporting you guys.”

Changbin didn’t know if that was true, but he let the thought fill him regardless.

“Have fun, okay? Above all else. I can feel your anxiety through the phone. Once you get out there, you’re going to feel so alive, baby brother.”

“I know,” he answered. And he did. Their last tour, less than a year ago, was a small trip around Seoul and its suburbs—just ten stops over the course of a month. It was only once the tour came to an end that Changbin finally got the hang of sleeping in vans and adapting to each crowd’s energy. He knew the learning curve this time would be shorter.

He still felt like he was going to pass out.

He told Mina he loved her and renewed the promise to call after the show tomorrow night just in time for his bandmates and his backup dancers to make their way into the room.

“We need a preshow ritual,” Jisung said. His hair was styled back away from his face, and his ears and fingers shined with silver. He looked older than Changbin when they were promoting. Older than Minho, too, now that he thought about it.

“Don’t we have one?” Changbin replied.

“That was just for us, hyung, we can’t make everyone else do our stupid hot sauce thing.”

“It’s not stupid,” Chan commented quietly from the corner.

“It is stupid, because we’re stupid, but all six of us are—“

“Really, really, really stupid,” Minho finished.

“We should just do whatever comes naturally,” Changbin offered. “If we force it, maybe it’ll have the opposite effect and we’ll be jinxed.”

“I hate that you even just said that out loud, edgelord hyung.”

“Wait, great idea, Felix, our preshow ritual can be making fun of Changbin,” Hyunjin offered.

“No—“

“Aish, Changbin, you look so cute today,” Minho coo’d with fingers tickling under his chin.

When the fifteen minutes of babying Changbin—in which he stood without complaint and with unparallelled amounts of aegyo—died down, a natural ritual seemed to take place.

It started with a game of bottle flips as they all sat in a circle on the floor. When the screams of victory and of defeat quieted down, a sense of anticipation washed over them.

“Thank you guys again,” Chan confessed in the silence. “For everything. I’m honored to share the stage with you tonight.”

Jisung and Changbin nodded. Despite Jisung’s demanding entrance, they’d actually already had a quiet moment together, just the three of them, before separating to get ready. What they really wanted to do now was to show their appreciation for their dance team.

“I can’t believe I’m getting a backstage pass to a 3racha show,” Felix said. He pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his shins. “I can’t wait to see you guys do this live. You’re going to kill it.”

Minho and Hyunjin smiled brightly.

Jisung placed his head on Felix’s shoulder, a silent thank you, and Chan’s inclination toward affection overtook him; he leaned over onto Jisung, prompting Hyunjin to fall onto him, creating a waterfall effect.

They sat like that, in a circle of calmed anxiety, hands eventually coming to clasp together, until the staff opened the door to the waiting room and signaled that it was time to mic up.

Minho gave Changbin’s hand a squeeze before he lifted his head off his shoulder.

“Go do what you do,” he whispered. Out of all of the encouragement Changbin received that night, it was those words that propelled him toward the stage.

______________

Performing always felt like blacking out to Changbin. When standing in between Jisung and Chan, he felt every beat and every scream of his name through his entire body; he was more present then than in any other moment in his existence.

But afterward, when he tried thinking back to each night even just one minute after hugging his best friends and gulping down the water his throat so immediately needed, he remembered just a whisper of a feeling that settled in his stomach and radiated out to his fingertips.

He had speckled of memories, like tonight: the girl at the barricade who rapped effortlessly along with him, the look on Jisung’s face when he heard the crowd chanting his name, the twinkle of phone flashlights during the encore. But the rest, the vast majority, was gone, contained only in those hours, with those people, in that venue.

He laid in the hotel room they rented for the back-to-back Seoul shows and allowed the buzz to course its way over his body. _I get to do this for months_ , he thought. The smile that naturally fell across his mouth made him question why he ever had any doubt in himself or his choices. This is exactly where he was meant to be.

His phone ringing pierced through the haze of his euphoria.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Minho answered.

Changbin pulled the phone away from his face and checked that it was Minho’s contact name that called him. They’d never once spoken on the phone before.

“Hi?”

“Do you want to come sit on my balcony with me?”

“Why?” he asked suspiciously before he could think better of it.

“I don’t know. Why not?”

Changbin didn’t have an answer for that, so he slipped on his shoes and walked the short to distance to Minho’s room.

The door was propped open with the locking mechanism. Changbin hoped that was only the case because Minho knew he was coming by; he pulled the lock shut as soon as he was inside.

The sliding door to the balcony was open, and he could see Minho’s white shirt highlighted in the nighttime darkness. He sat down wordlessly beside him.

“I like being alone a lot of the time,” Minho began without prompting. “I’m an only child, so I’m just used to doing things on my own, and I really like decompressing by myself after a job, but I felt lonely tonight.”

He looked over at Changbin with an insecure smile.

“It’s going to be a lot of nights like this one. I don’t want you to be lonely for the whole tour,” Changbin replied.

“I guess you’ll just have to keep me company, then.”

“Can I ask you something?” Changbin asked impulsively and also without prompting.

Minho nodded, gave Changbin his full attention.

“Tonight was the first time I’ve seen you perform in front of people. You—you’re really, really good, hyung. I don’t even know how to say it in a way that’s accurate. And not that backup dancers aren’t good anyway, I’m not trying to discount that or anything—“

“Where’s the question?” Minho asked, amused at Changbin’s flustered speech.

He took a deep breath. “The crowd responded to you so well tonight, and you have this energy that I just can’t imagine being _behind_ someone else.  You can choreograph your own dances, too. I mean, have you thought about standing on stage by yourself in some way? I really hope I’m not overstepping or offending you—”

“Changbin, it’s fine.” Minho placed his hand on Changbin’s shoulder and massaged his fingers there. The tension dropped from his muscles immediately. “I actually tried auditioning for a couple of entertainment agencies before I got signed to my dance company. I kept getting the same feedback—you have dance fundamentals and ‘the look,’ whatever that means, but if you can’t sing while you’re dancing, none of that matters. I just didn’t have enough practice at it, and then when I got signed here, I got no practice at all, so I kind of just let that hope go.”

Minho seemed to search the night sky for what he wanted to say next, so Changbin waited.

“And now I love what I do so much that it almost feels like I’m betraying myself by wanting something different. Like if I love to dance why would I want a career where dancing is only part of my job, that just doesn’t make sense.”

“But right now it’s only part of your job, too,” Changbin replied. “You’re dancing as a complement to someone else’s style, someone else’s music, someone else’s body, even.”

Minho sighed and leaned back so he rested on his palms stretched back toward the door. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“If this is out of left field or if I’m overstepping my boundary—“

“You’re worried about that a lot tonight.”

“I’m always worried, have you met me?”

“Luckily, yes.”

Changbin let that stun him for just a beat before continuing. “I can help you, if you want. You’ve done so much for us and for me specifically, I can maybe help you with your singing? I’m not an expert by any means, but I could probably help you with the basics and then get you in touch with someone at my company that could provide more guidance.”

“Changbin, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. We’ll have plenty of free time in between stops when we can work on it.”

Minho took so long to respond, Changbin looked over his shoulder to see if he’d said something wrong.

Minho was staring back at him, searching for something, but Changbin didn’t know what.

Maybe he found what he was looking for, because he reached forward and wrapped his arms around Changbin’s chest and buried his face into his back.

It wasn’t unlike the choreography to the breakup song Changbin now knew Minho created. But it also wasn’t like that at all.

Minho wasn’t constraining him, wasn’t holding on to something that was quick to break away. He was grounding himself in gratitude.

Changbin leaned his head back against Minho’s, patted his hands against his arms, and they both stayed like that until the late night air became so chilly even their shared body heat couldn’t keep them from shivering.

_______________

“Did you actually use my phone to film that?” Minho asked after the second Seoul show. They were all sat down to dinner at Hyunjin’s favorite restaurant for their final familiar meal before piling into a tour bus and heading out of the city.

“Wait, hyung, you never asked him?” Jisung asked from the other side of the table.

Changbin gathered his strength and said as sweetly as possible, “I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

He expected Minho to scowl and push him away when he punctuated his words by placing his head on his shoulder and looking up at him through his lashes.

Instead, Minho let out a sigh and told him it was fine. He didn’t ask Changbin to move, and it took him several moments to realize it made no sense for him to be answering Felix’s question about the menu glued to Minho’s side.

“You like these noodles, right?” Minho asked once their food arrived. He hadn’t taken a bite, yet he was already extending the steaming serving wrapped over his chopsticks out to Changbin.

Minho gave his entire helping to Changbin without question and checked over to make sure he was eating well throughout the meal.

“God, I forgot how good it feels to eat after a show. I’m pretty sure I sweat out three days worth of food under those lights,” Chan said as he leaned back in their booth with his hand on his belly.

They all looked exhausted: Felix propped Jisung up with an arm around his shoulders, Hyunjin, seemingly unconcerned with hygiene, laid with his right cheek flat on the table, and Changbin, no longer caring that it made no sense—and maybe half afraid that it _did_ make sense—rested his head on Minho.

Felix made the first move to get up, dragging a half-conscious Jisung with him. “At least we’ll sleep through the drive.”

And they did.

Changbin didn’t really like to sleep in cars. It was never restful and his neck never didn’t hurt, but the adjustment to leaving every ounce of his energy on stage for two nights in a row left him unable to stay awake as the streetlights shined only momentary light on the interior of the bus.

He didn’t remember arriving at the hotel at four in the morning or discussing who was going to share rooms or falling into the bed closest to the door or feeling Minho fall into bed next to him.

But he woke up just the same, with dehydration prickling behind his forehead; regrettably, his jeans sticking to his legs; and Minho’s arm across his stomach, his face buried in his back.

Changbin didn’t give himself time to overthink or reconsider. He placed his right arm over Minho’s and laced their fingers together.

His only regret was waking him up.

“Good morning,” Minho mumbled into his back. He squeezed Changbin’s hand.

“Morning.”

He felt Minho pop his head up, rest his chin on Changbin’s bicep.

“Oh.”

Changbin turned over enough to see Minho’s face. Sleep puffed out his cheeks and eyes and Changbin resisted every instinct to run his thumb over his features.

“I didn’t know there were two beds. I just assumed we had to share.” Minho sat up and scooter over out of Changbin’s space. “I’m sorry, it was still dark outside, I just threw our suitcases down and followed you into bed.”

Changbin sat up, too. “Oh, it’s okay, hyung.”

“That’s super creepy, though, me not giving you your space and even touching you, I wasn’t trying to—“

“Hey.” Changbin could see the alarm on his face. For all of Lee Minho’s skill at tricking people into being close with him, he wasn’t at all interested in tricking people into being physically close with him.

“It’s okay. I’m awake and fully aware now, and I’m telling you it’s okay.” He shoved at Minho’s arm, hoping to jostle sense into him. “Besides, I’d already decided to lend you my back for the entire tour. I can’t take any chances on our main dancer not getting his sleep.”

Minho shoved him back. “Shut _up_.”

Changbin grabbed the pillow from his side of the bed and slammed it into Minho’s face. “I’m trying to be nice to you!”

“Yah!”

It was only when someone banged on the wall behind their heads did Minho and Changbin relent in their childish fight.

With both of their pillows thrown to the ground, Minho laid his arm across the top of the bed. “Here, you can use my arm as a pillow—ow! Did you just bite me?”

“The killer always gets his final scare, Lee Minho, always remember that.”

“You’re so fucking weird, Seo Changbin. Why do I like you so much?”

Changbin kissed over the red mark on Minho’s skin. “I have no idea.”

_____________

“So, I have an idea.”

“You’re finally going to ask Minho out so you’ll stop flirting in front of us and pouting whenever you don’t get to room together,” Jisung replied.

“Okay, first of all, you have no room to talk. Second of all, it makes no sense why we can’t just keep the same roommates for every stop.”

“First of all, Felix and Jisung have literally been dating since before we left Seoul and second of all, we need to keep working on music, so I’m going to room with one of you two every night, it’s the only thing that makes sense,” Chan added.

Changbin whirled around in his seat to look at Jisung in the back of the bus. The dancers were grabbing snacks at the gas station as they made their way to their tenth stop. He knew he didn’t have enough time to fully scold Jisung for not telling him every detail of what happened with Felix, but he hoped his face conveyed his betrayal.

“We’ll talk about that _later_. All of that aside, I’ve been helping Minho with his singing and stuff—“

“What? Why didn’t you ask me for help? I have more experience singing.”

“What? Why didn’t you ask _me_ for help? I’ve been singing the longest.”

“You two are the actual worst right now, you know that? That doesn’t matter, what I want to know is if you think it’s possible we get Minho into an audition with our company. He’s thinking about training as a singer and a dancer.”

“Changbin, you know I love you, but you do realize that Minho can audition just like everyone else can, right? We hold open auditions several times a year,” Jisung replied.

Changbin buried his face in his hands. “I’m an idiot. I was so focused on how I could help him that I didn’t even realize he doesn’t really need my help to audition.”

“You’ve got lovey-dovey brain fog, it happens to the best of us, “Chan consoled.

“Says the only one on this bus who isn’t currently dating.”

“I’m not dating—“

“I am dating—“

“Wait. What?” All three of them demanded, but Hyunjin slid open the door and they all fell silent.

______________

_how can you say you’re not dating minho you guys might not be official but you literally go on dates with him every night after the show_

Changbin looked around him to make sure no one in the backseat was reading over his shoulder before bringing his phone up close to his face to respond to his group chat with Jisung and Chan.

_we’re just hanging out at night, it’s no big deal_

He didn’t mention that they sleep in the same bed and wake up each day that they room together in an early morning haze of hand holding and brief touches of lips to arms and shoulders before the sunlight reminds them that it is only in their sleep when they are most brave. He decided to redirect to Chan instead.

_who the hell are you dating, hyung and if you say it’s hyunjin i’m breaking up this band for all of us being cliches who hook up on tour_

_so first you’re just hanging out at night and NOW you’re suddenly hooking up. the truth always comes out Seo Changbin. and no, i’m not dating hyunjin, he’s too young for me. i just want to keep him in my pocket always, not kiss him_

_you said all that but didn’t even tell us who you’re dating. sad._

Changbin stifled a laugh at Jisung’s response.

_fine you love-thirsty heathens. it’s not really dating as much as it is “talking” but it’s a girl that left the company a few years ago. we just randomly ran into each other at the grocery store of all places a few months ago like we’re in a sitcom my mom would watch on primetime tv_

_um, cute_

_um, i second that_

_i hate that we’re all living our dreams touring the best music we’ve ever made with our best friends in the world AND we all have healthy relationships who do we think we are_

_i’m not in a relationship_

_changbin i’m kicking you out of the band this is a dating-only zone_

_it was nice while it lasted, hyung, you will be missed_

“Whatcha doing?”

Changbin jumped so violently he flung his phone into the floorboard in front of him, hitting Minho in the nose in the process.

“Jesus christ, you scared me.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Minho replied as he winced in pain.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Changbin reached over and pried Minho’s hands away from his face gently. He checked for bleeding (there was none) or any size of bruising (there was none, but it was dark, and he wouldn’t be sure until morning).

He traced his thumb across the bridge of his nose and down his cheek and was going to say something stupid about how pretty Minho was, but the light of his phone notifications washed him in bright but belated realization.

He settled for a quick sorry before grabbing his phone.

_RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD_

_KISS HIM KISS HIM KISS HIM KISS HIM_

_i’m kicking myself out of the band_

_____________

Midway through the tour came an uncharacteristic free day. Usually, the travel time in between stops had them arriving in the early morning only to play a show that night. Today, though, Changbin slept until noon with no guilt, no anticipatory startling awake in fear of missing a show entirely, which made no sense, but he couldn’t tell his body or his mind that.

No, he woke up at noon with Minho as usual against his back, his arm wrapped around Changbin’s waist. They ate breakfast slowly, not bothering to ask the others if they wanted to come to their hotel room for a team meal.

And while Minho was showering, Changbin asked one of their managers if there were any facilities nearby where he could practice with Minho. They’d used the little space they had to practice his performance multitasking, but hotel rooms didn’t provide enough room for him to try focusing on singing while having his full range of motion to contend with.

There was apparently a community arts hall a few blocks over, and Changbin was relieved to see no one occupied it at 2pm on a Wednesday.

Before their first session a couple of weeks ago, Changbin asked Minho to choreograph a quick and simple routine to one of his favorite songs for the sake of practice. Because Minho was Lee Minho, he formulated a routine that was complex and beautiful and perfectly congruent with the lyrics of a track Changbin produced and released by himself predebut. He’d featured a soloist at the company that for a while he thought would debut with 3racha, but who eventually left to train at a different agency. All these years later, he still felt proud of that song, and he had no idea how Minho found it.

“You really thought I would have accepted the job to be your backup dancer if I didn’t google you first? Please,” was Minho’s response when Changbin sat with his jaw dropped open the first time he’d performed the dance for him.

The memory returned to him as he hooked his phone up to the stereo system in the community center.

“What did you think of me when you first looked me up?” Changbin asked while facing his phone rather than the answer.

“That you were probably the most talented person I’d ever worked for and from your interviews that you were entirely too humble for just how good you are,” Minho answered plainly, like he wasn’t causing Changbin’s chest to ache.

Minho walked over when Changbin didn’t respond, hooked his chin over his shoulder, wrapped his arms all too familiarly around his middle. “And now I know that to be true,” he added. “And I know that you’re funny and ridiculous and willing to do anything as long as it makes your friends laugh. Oh, and you’re stupidly cute, you really didn’t have to be this perfect, I’m just trying to do my job here, Seo Changbin.”

“Then go practice,” Changbin answered as he fought off an embarrassed smile. He pushed Minho off of him. “Focus on your breathing today. You can’t execute every move one hundred percent and still be able to stabilize your voice. You have to find some kind of balance.”

“Yes, teacher,” Minho sang.

Changbin pressed play.

______________

_okay i think i have a legit question this time_

_shoot_

_shoot_

_______________

After that first night of the tour, whenever Chan enforced the roommate rotation rule, Minho sent Changbin a text. It was never directly after the show—he always gave him enough time to wash up and talk to Mina—but the invitation always came eventually.

Tonight, Changbin texted Minho first.

_come to my balcony?_

He didn’t know how Minho always managed to be sitting so stoically, not even flinching when Changbin sat down next to him. With the roles reversed, Changbin looked back toward the door so frequently he worried he would injure his neck.

When Changbin finally heard the lock close, he tried stilling his shaking legs, but the tremble moved to his hands instead. He shoved them under his thighs.

“Hey,” Minho greeted.

He sat down with feet spread wide in front of him. “Mina doing well?”

“Yeah, my mom is driving her out of her mind, but she’s hanging in there.”

“I can’t wait to meet your parents, they’re going to love me,” Minho claimed.

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you anywhere near my family.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not already Facebook friends with your second cousins.”

Changbin huffed out a laugh that seemed to calm his nerves.

“So,” he started. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, no.”

“You’re better than dad jokes, Lee Minho, just let me talk, please.”

Minho threw up his hands in surrender before leaning back on his palms. His eyes were tired as they always were when they met at night, but he also looked as if Changbin’s every word held the answer to a question neither of them were willing to ask.

“You’ve improved so much in your singing, there’s not really much I can help you with when it’s just us in our hotel room.”

Minho nodded.

“So I’m thinking you need an audience to feed off of, and you can get a feel for whether or not this might be a career you’d actually want to pursue. Right now it’s just an idea, but on stage, it might feel like a reality.”

“Stage?”

“Yeah.” Changbin balled his hands into fists. “I talked to Jisung and Chan hyung about it, and we thought we could add your song to our setlish for a few shows.”

Minho scrunched his eyebrows together. “Your fans are there to see you, not me, Changbin.”

“They know all of our predebut music, though. They’ll recognize the song and I’ll introduce you.” Changbin lifted off of his left hand and placed it on Minho’s knee. “I’m not pressuring you to do this. If you’re uncomfortable or have any doubt, I’ll forget about it, but I mean it when I say you would shine so fucking bright up there.”

Minho’s forehead smoothed as quickly as he’d hoped. “You’re sure Jisung and Chan hyung are okay with this?”

“You can talk to them yourself if you want, but yes. One hundred percent sure.”

Changbin waited several moments while Minho thought about his offer.

“Why are you doing this for me? Helping me, letting me perform?” he asked instead of answering directly. “You don’t have to do any of this.”

“I want to see you happy,” Changbin answered simply.

“You make me happy,” Minho replied even planer. “You know that right?”

Changbin nodded.

“Thank you,” Minho whispered. He scooted over—Changbin was afraid he was getting up—to give himself enough room to lay down with his head in Changbin’s lap. Changbin carded his fingers carded through his hair. “If people talk shit about me online you have to promise to let me perform with a paper bag over my head for the rest of the tour.”

“That’s not going to happen, but sure, I promise. You steal my thunder when we dance together anyway, it’s unfair.”

Minho shuffled so he could look up at Changbin.

“For someone so good at _acting_ cute, I don’t know how you can’t see just how literally cute you are.”

Changbin placed his hand over Minho’s face. “Shut up.”

“One of these days you’ll let me compliment you,” he mumbled against Changbin’s palm.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Think faster, Seo Changbin, cutest person I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Changbin tried looking as disgusted as he could manage, but a shy smile pierced through.

Minho grinned, too.

_____________

“We have something special for you tonight,” Changbin announced. Jisung and Chan ran off stage just as the previous song ended; Changbin knelt down close to the fans by himself. “You’re the first city ever to see this performance.”

He held the microphone out toward the barricade, and the screams that filled the concert hall caused his entire body to vibrate.

Changbin held his finger up to his lips. “Shhhhh.” The crowd quieted at his request. “I have a friend who wants to meet you all tonight, and I want you to give him everything you’ve got, alright? I’m counting on you to make him feel like a fucking rockstar, okay?”

Satisfied, Changbin walked to the side of the stage, held his hand up over his head, and snapped once.

The music started, and the lights went black.

From the wing, Changbin watched as a single light focused on Minho. As expected, their fans knew the song from the very first note, and seeing the backup dancer they’d already watched for two songs prior didn’t seem to deter their excitement.

Changbin wasn’t used to seeing Minho dance from the side, but he now knew he was beautiful from every angle. He began with an explosive series of movements, widening his reach all about his body. When the beat paused and so did Minho, Changbin heard the crowd gasp.

He held his breath.

The first note rang out across the hall as Minho slowly began to move again.

His voice was sweet and stable, and Changbin’s stomach somersaulted at the sound.

When Minho held his mic out for the crowd to sing the final chorus, Changbin sang, too. Somewhere behind him, he heard Jisung, Chan, Hyunjin, and Felix belting out the lyrics he wrote years before he knew he’d be able to travel the country playing his music, years before he knew he’d meet Lee Minho.

Changbin had no doubt that he would remember this moment long after Minho threw his hands up in the air and fell to his knees, long after the screams of an encore stilled, long after Minho ran to him with shining eyes and confident smile and kissed him.

______________

“Your company doesn’t have a dating rule, right?”

Changbin’s head rested in Minho’s lap on a balcony facing the sunrise.

“Nope.”

“Good,” he replied. “Because I was thinking you should ask me out.”

Changbin sat up. “Why can’t you ask me out?”

“I’m the one who kissed you. It’s your turn.”

Changbin swung his hips over Minho’s thighs and pressed their lips together.

“There. Now it’s your turn.”

Minho leaned in, kissing his cheek. “There. Now it’s _your_ turn.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, braced himself on Minho’s shoulders, and took a deep breath.

“Will you go out with me?”

With daylight and endearment warming his back, Changbin felt Minho whisper _yes_ against his lips.

_____________

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Well, it was mostly joy. Seo Changbin's personality is difficult for me to capture, and minbin's dynamic is complex, so I'd love to hear your feedback on what worked for you! Comments are always appreciated. I read each one with gratitude and affection. 
> 
> If you'd like to talk about minbin or skz in general with me, you can find me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/leemiknow) and [tumblr](http://www.indifferentyoongi.tumblr.com)!
> 
> <3 <3 <3


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